There were six unanswered messages to Rachel and one dismissive reply:
Relax. I’ll be there later.
No apology.
No question about whether the children had eaten.
I handed the phone back.
“I am staying until she arrives.”
Mom looked anxious.
“Please don’t start a war.”
“I’m not starting anything.”
From beneath the table, Noah said, “Mommy says Aunt Kate always starts things.”
I smiled tightly.
Rachel finally arrived at 7:15 p.m. wearing workout clothes and carrying shopping bags.
She entered without knocking.
“Hey, kids. Shoes on.”
Then she noticed me.
“Oh. Kayla.”
I folded my arms.
“Where have you been?”
She frowned.
“Busy.”
“You left them here for an entire day.”
“I asked her to watch them for an hour.”
“And then disappeared.”
Rachel rolled her eyes.
“I lost track of time. What is the big deal? We are family.”
“The big deal is that she could barely stand today.”
Mom began gathering jackets, but I stepped between Rachel and the door.
Rachel glanced at her, then shrugged.
“She seems fine.”
“She is not fine. You do this constantly, and you have never offered to pay her.”
Rachel laughed.
“I am not paying her anything. She is retired. She sits at home and does nothing anyway.”
Mom flinched.
Rachel continued.
“Honestly, I’m giving her something to do. She should be grateful.”
For a moment, I couldn’t speak.
I looked at the shopping bags hanging from Rachel’s arms, then at Mom pressing one hand against her back.
Rachel mistook my silence for agreement.
“See? You know I’m right.”
An idea began forming.
“You know what? You are right.”
Rachel blinked.
Mom stared at me.
“Excuse me?” Rachel asked.
“Family should help family. Please come to my house tomorrow for dinner. Seven o’clock. Everyone will be there.”
Suspicion crossed her face.
“Why?”
“Because I think we should talk about sharing responsibilities fairly.”
She smirked.
“Finally, you’re learning.”
As she herded the children toward the door, she called back, “Make something the kids will eat.”
The door closed behind them.
Mom lowered her voice.
“What are you planning?”
I picked up the cereal bowl.
“Nothing cruel.”
“Kate.”
“I just want Rachel to understand consent.”
For full cooking steps, turn to the next page or click the Open button (>) and don't forget to SHARE with your Facebook friends.
